Vicious Attack

Yesterday was a bad day.  Maybe it was day before.  The days tend to run together when you’re an older dog.  My younger sister Cosi, who is both strong and pretty, sweet and vicious, attacked me without provocation.  I was like the little white dog in this 1924 illustration by Gustaf Tenggren, in “The Good Dog Book”

Gustaf Tenggren--from The Good Dog Book--1924

~

I didn’t do anything, she just attacked.  She is so deceptively sweet.  She looks just like this:

Dream-runner-Stella Looks just like Cosi

(This wonderful picture taken from a post called “Dream Runner”in a blog called “Dog Virgin Diaries“)

Check out those teeth and those strong jaws.  Not sweet digging into your flesh.  Well I was lucky because my mom was right there to save me.  Ever since I try to get under my daddys legs for safety — or hide in the ‘green room’ which is my parents easy-speak for the back poarch/storeroom.  My dad isn’t too happy that his beloved books are relegated to the dog-overflow room.  But that’s the way it is and we all have to accept some things we’d rather not.

Things could be worse.  The good old days were no better.  Check this out from 1898 where they shot dogs with bows and arrows for sport.  Michael Vick don’t get any ideas.

Archery with the Yumi Shooting a Dog -- Chikanobu--1898

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This blogging software is frustrating me today, so let me end with a new take on a red dog, like me.  Here it is:

Georg Grosz--Suicide--1916

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George Grosz (1893-1959) was a German artist, whose art was often critical of the Germany of his day.  He was drafted into the German army in 1914 and after his experiences in the trenches developed a  loathing for German society  savagely reflected as satirical paintings and drawings that in his words expressed ‘despair, hate and disillusionment’.  This painting is surely no exception, for we see a dead body, a prostitute, and dogs roaming around the scene.

With a little luck, and if Cosi, my sister,  stays at bay, my next post may be more upbeat.

Have a good day.

Rita the dog

Schuler and Brazier

Today for your viewing pleasure and contemplation I bring you Earl Schuler’s poster, “Report Dog Bites”, commissioned in 1941 by the Cleveland Healt Department.  Here it is:

Report Dog Bites -- Earl Schuler -- 1941

And, switching gears, a modern work of London based artist Richard Brazier.  This piece is at the National Portrait Gallery London.

Johnny and Glory -- Richard Brazier

I think this piece is from 2007 or 2008 but really I am just guessing.  Let me know if you have a date for it.

Keep on treking,

Rita the dog

Falling off the Wagon

Five months is a long time on the wagon.  There was no doubt I was an addict.  Any dog who spends upwards of 5 hours a day on the Internet is an addict.  Funny thing was, climbing on that wagon was nothing.  I just woke up one day with a total Internet aversion.  Even the idea of it made me nauseous.  Course the carbuncle I had on my tail was part of it.  Hurt every time I sat on the stool and tried my snagle-claw hunt and peck at the keyboard.  My dad wanted to take a picture of it.  What kind of taste is that.  No way.  A lady who seems real nice wants to see video of me at the keyboard.  Oh ye of little faith.  So I had a tail operation and here I am five months later rearing and ready to go — but not without guilt for slipping so smoothly off that bumpy wagon.

I have to admit that I have had a short spell answering questions over on Yahoo!Answers.  Some guy thought my avatar looked like a red bear.  And a lady said I should see a shrink, and the sooner the better.  I’m not sure she even believed I was a dog.  No dog-shrinks around here anyway.

So here it is, a few dog art treats for you today.  Sorry, I can’t remember where they came from.

1872 expression

1872 expression, pic 2

1872 expression, pic 3

1872 expression, pic 4

1872 expression, pic 5

That’s it for today.  Welcome back to my blog.

Your best friend,

Rita the dog

Tharpe Dogs

Its been a while. My apologies if you came here looking for something new but found nothing. Truth is, I’ve been under the weather for a spell. My dad says its ’cause I drank from a mud puddle. Thats my dad. He has a reason for everything. I drank from mud puddles lots of times and never got sick. So he says it wasn’t your average puddle, since it was right where all the cattle stood when they drank from the tank. That tank was too tall for me, so I drank from the cow-puddle. I don’t see why that matters. My young sister Cosi is big, strong, beautiful and healthy as a horse and she fancies warm cow-pies. If there’s a Michelle Vick out there organizing female dog fights, I’ll bet on Cosi. Every time. All I can say is if my dad is right we dogs have all gotten too domesticated.

So, since I’m still not feeling that perky, you’ll have to make do with a one picture post. It came from a wonderful little book called Appalachia: a Self-Portrait which is all photos from that part of rural America taken in the 1970’s by people who lived there. Dorothea Lange step aside. This is the real thing by the real people. Funny thing, though, this book, along with lots of other gems, was culled by the San Antonio Public Library back when me and Barney and Kitty-Kitty lived there, may they rest in peace. The basement sale people had the good sense to price it at $3, which was a lot, since most books were 25 cents or 50 cents or a buck. My dad scarfed it right up anyway. He has a thing for books.

So he shows me this one picture in that book showing, Fields and Pearl Tharpe, in their home in Auburn, West Virginia. They look pretty happy, an older couple sitting there with their two dogs who seem to be getting on a bit themselves — a lot of history on the wall behind them too. My dad said it reminded him of the Millers who lived up Murphy Creek and who fed him for a few weeks when his folks were away. Nice people and Mrs. Miller made real good biscuits and gravy. Myron, that was old man Miller, had bad emphysema which was because he had been mustard-gassed in World War I. Murphy Creek wasn’t in Appalachia, but it might as well have been. Country people, loggers and dust bowl Oakies, like from the Grapes of Wrath. They said ain’t and cain’t. My dad said ones’t you got the hang of it, it was right comfortable. He reckons it was easy but he cain’t talk that way no more. That was in South Western Oregon around 1959 and the locals called it “Murphy Crik”. There was a guy lived up Murphy Crik back then, loved his dog more than anything. Used to let it ride everywhere in the back of his pickup. One day he pulls up with no dog in his pickup. “What happened to your dog?” says my granddad (that would be my dad’s dad — I never did get to meet him). “Oh, had to shoot it–it wouldn’t listen or mind and I got so pissed I took my gun right off the rack and shot it”. That’s what the guy said. Go figure.

Well, Fields and Pearl Tharpe in the real Appalachia would never have done a thing like that. They’s good people. I can tell from the picture. Those dogs look real happy too, and I bet ones’t in a while they got biscuits and gravy.

Fields and Pearl Tharpe in Auburn, by Robert Cooper, around 1970

(see it big)

Till next time, your friend,

Rita the dog

Dog Tessellations

My dad wanted this on his blog. He said it was about geometry. I said it was dog art. He said the best you could say is that it was dog graphics. But we agreed on the dog part, so he had to capitulate.

A tessellation is like a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces have the same shape but they still fit together without any gaps. The squares on a tile floor would be one example. The figure below is a more complicated tessellation which is composed of identical 9-sided polygons but has a 3 dimensional feel, appearing a bit like two snakes wrapping around eachother:

Cover image on Grünbaum/Shephard book: Tilings and Patterns

Click on the above image to see it larger and, for more information, see the description at my dad’s flicker page, here.

If it were possible to make a tessellation where each piece was a dog then you would have a dog tessellation. For a long time I didn’t think such a thing could exist. I knew about that Dutch master graphic artist named Escher. He did lots of tessellations where the pieces were animals, so I asked the old man if Escher ever did one with dogs. My dad has seen just about all the Escher art there is to see and he said there weren’t any with dogs. There was a pretty nice one with fish he said and he showed me this one, which isn’t too well known:

Escher–Fish on Textile–1942 (big)

Well, that’s that, I thought. But then one day the old nose got to sniffing and pretty soon sniffed out an Escher piece with dogs. Yup, thought I, there are some advantages to being a dog. I’m pretty sure Escher had it in a notebook or some private file, because its not done as carefully as the public work he exhibited, and parts of the red have faded since he made it, way back in 1938. But a dog tessellation it is, and possibly the first one ever made. Have a look:

Escher–Dog Tessellation–1938

I was pretty happy there were some red dogs in there, since, as you must know by now, I’m a red dog too. Those dogs really look like dogs and yet they fit together perfectly. I take my hat (figuratively speaking since I don’t actually have a hat) off to Escher. Maurits Cornelis Escher lived from 1898 to 1972. The official Escher web site, where you can see lots of his other work, is here.

Nowadays lots of clever people have created tessellation art similar to Escher’s tessellations with animal images. People today have the huge advantage of using special computer software to help them design and create the images. But you won’t see many woodcuts, and for my taste Escher did it best.

Here then are some modern dog tessellations. The first three are by Japanese graphics design artist Makoto Nakamura

Makoto Nakamura–dog tessellation 1–1993 (big)

Makoto Nakamura–dog tessellation 6–2004 (big)

To me those dogs look too much like rabbits. Here is the last example by this artist.

Makoto Nakamura–dog tessellation 7–1988 (big)

You can find a huge variety of other graphic art at Makoto Nakamura’s page, most of it not dog tessellations. Just click here.

The next image is a dog tessellation by Yoshiaki Araki, who appears to me to have been a youngster in Japan when he did tessellations. Information about this artist is scarce, but my reading of tea leaves leads me to believe that he parlayed his interest in tessellations to an interest in Kleinian and Fuchsian groups and computer graphics, got a PhD at Keio University, and found bigger fish to fry. This is guesswork, not fact, so don’t quote me, and if you must be sure to say you heard it from Rita the dog.

Yoshiaki Araki–dog–date unknown (big)

For the last dog tessellation, here is an image by a 10 year old girl named “Kaitlyn C”, who won some sort of prize for it.

Kaitlyn C–age 10–Dog Tessellation (big)

This concludes my post on dog tessellations. If you want to see more you can certainly find them on the Internet, but I would urge you to try and create one for yourself.

Good luck!

Rita the dog

The Incredible Lightness of Being

When I was a young dog I used to dream of flying. Birds soar. Dogs run. Wouldn’t it be nice if dogs could soar? I tried it once, long ago. It was in a park in San Antonio where my mom and dad used to walk with me and let me run. No interlopers back then. Just me, the top dog, the only dog. I used to love to run there and once in a while chase a squirrel. Those were the days: young, strong, happy. I felt like I could fly. On one side was the a bank of the dry river that only flowed when there were cloudbursts, which there certainly were back in San Antonio.

One day at the edge of the park I was so anxious to run that they let me loose early and I glimpsed a cat on the top of that 10 foot bank. I ran like the wind after it. Mom and dad walked as usual down the path, across the dry river bed, and on to the grass on the other side. Just when I was closing in on that cat, it darted and jumped and disappeared. Its scent was still wafting in the air. The game was up. I knew it was grinning somewhere, just out of sight.

Just then I heard my mom and dad calling me, “Rita! Rita! Rita come!”. So I turned and saw them in the distance on the grass. I was pumped and decided to run to them as fast as I could. I ran and ran toward them, totally forgetting there was a 10 foot drop just ahead, which I glimpsed at the very moment that I took off. I soared, I flew, and I felt grand. Oh, my God, dogs can fly! But just a few seconds and maybe 15 aerial feet later ecstasy turned to panic as I noticed the ground was moving up fast and it was going hit me.

Thud! I blacked out for a few seconds and then pain everywhere. I couldn’t move or get up or even breath. I could hear my dad saying as if through a fog: “She’s really hurt. She might die. I don’t believe she did that”. Then my mom said, “Quick, get the car. She can’t walk”. So my dad got the car and they carried me to it and drove me straight to the vet. By now I could breath OK but the pain was still intense. The vet examined me carefully and said it was impossible to tell if I had internal injuries, but I didn’t appear to have any broken bones. They took me home and kept me quiet and pretty soon I got better and could walk again. I limped for weeks, but gradually made a full recovery.

Now, when I feel high, like I want to fly, I just find some dog art I like and gaze. Here are three pictures I like when I feel that way. The first is for my uncle John, he is my human uncle and he lives in Alaska with his dog Duchess. You can see her picture on my flickr page. He’s a big fan of that dog sled race they have every year in Alaska. It’s called the Iditarod and it’s over 1150 miles long. The dogs that do all the work are truly incredible. Anyway, this painting makes me think of them. It was done in 1892 by Frederick Remington, an American Painter and Sculptor who lived from 1861 to 1909.

Huskie Dogs on the Frozen Highway (aka Talking Musquash)–Frederic Remington–1892 (big)

The next picture looks more like a happy dog jumping in the summer sunshine. It is called Jumping Dog ‘Schlick’ and was done by German artist Franz Marc (1880 – 1916) in 1908, eight years before his tragic death in world war I. Here is the picture, of a happy dog I like:

Jumping Dog-‘Schlick’–Franz Marc–1908 (big)

The final picture for today is my dream. It is by the contemporary surrealist painter, Samuel Barrera, who is from Merida, Mexico. You can learn more about this artist and his work by clicking here.

Samuel Barrera–Didio Leaving

Your best friend,

Rita the dog

Celestial Dogs

Just when you thought poor old Rita the dog must have checked out and written her last blog post, (all good things must come to an end), here is another one for you, about dogs in the sky. Yup, dogs up there in the heavens. Sometimes I think my dad is right: old dogs should keep trying to learn new tricks. Keeps them young and active and happy. Well, maybe. In any case, you can’t imagine how happy I was when I learned there were dogs up in the sky.

The biggest and brightest star in the nighttime sky is a dog named Sirius. Chances are that radio outfit knew that when they picked their name. Dog breath is a powerful thing, and they broadcast from the sky. Just kidding. Anyway, almost 2000 years ago, back when gnostics were babes trying to figure it out, there was this guy named Ptolemy. His real name was Κλαύδιος Πτολεμαῖος, but folks these days mostly just say (those that say it at all) Ptolemy. He had a Roman first name but he was a Greek who lived in Alexandria, which is in Africa. More importantly he wrote the bible of astronomy. And it was the bible for a 1000 years. Hundreds of years later the Arabs translated this ‘bible of astronomy’ into Arabic and called it the Almagest (transliteration of الكتاب المجسطي) and hundreds more years later when it was finally translated from Arabic to Latin, so smart folks in Europe could learn it, the name Almagest stuck. True, it was epicycular but that didn’t matter, it explained the motions of the stars and planets and how to predict elcipses. It named and accurately tabulated the location and brightness of over 1000 stars. Back when sines were chords it explained how to calculate distances and angles on spheres. My dad said today we call that spherical trigonometry. Here’s the deal: Ptolemy said Sirius was red! That’s right, the brightest star in the nighttime sky, a red dog like me! That is truly wonderful. But it is also a puzzle because Sirius is not red.

Sirius, the bright red dog in the sky, told the ancient Egyptians when to plant their crops, and its emanating energy caused the “dog days of summer”. Chances are you are chomping at the bit to find out how Sirius, that big red dog got up there in the sky. Well, there are lots of stories but apparently thousands of years ago there was this hunter named Orion who had two dogs. And, by the bye, Zeus, he was the king of all the gods, said enough is enough and elevated them all to immortal status as constellations in the night sky. Orion became the constellation Orion, and you can still see his belt and his sword, and the middle star in his sword is fuzzy because it’s not a star, it’s a nebula. My dad tells me stuff like that which drives me crazy because then I can’t get it out of my head. I’ve definitely got bigger fish to fry. Me and the interlopers went on a walk with my mom and dad and they bought trout at this place in the country and my mom fried them up and I got to lick the plates. That was a good day, and for just a little while I forgot about the Orion nebula.

Up there in the sky, near Orion are his two dogs. The big one is called canis major. Here is how that dog looks in an old map of the heavens:

Canis Major (big dog)

Look carefully and you will see that Sirius, the dog star, is his nose. More modern folks say it looks like this:

Canis Major (blue)(big) ©Dorling Kindersley

What’s going on here? Sirius, the dog star, is now the big dog’s chest. It moved! What do I know? I’m just a dog. Anyway, facts are fuzzy. Be sure to give Dorling Kindersley some money if you want to download this image. But why would you? I know, because it proves not all blue dogs are in Louisiana. (Private joke, you have to read comments).

Orion’s smaller dog is up there in the sky too. It looks like this:

Canis Minor (Orion’s smaller dog)

By now you probably wish I had checked out, but surely you would like to know that there are two more dogs in the night sky and their names are Chara and Asterion. These two were the dogs of Boötes, the herdsman, and there are many stories about all this, which you will have to investigate on your own. Somehow they all ended up in the night sky as, the constellation Boötes, and the constellation Canes Venatici, which is Latin for ‘hunting dogs’. Here is how they looked on an ancient star map:

Canes Venatici (Boötes’ hunting dogs)

And here is how they looked to Erert Bode in 1782:

Boötes flees from the chariot–Erert Bode–1782 (bigger)

Hey, what’s going on here? Everything seems to be facing in the opposite direction! Maybe there is strength in numbers, since Aspin in 1825 agrees with Erert Bode, as you can see here:

Boötes–Aspin–1825 (big)

By now you know me. I saved the best for last. How could it get any better than a giant dog-bone in the sky? I kid you not. It’s for real. I can’t wait till my turn comes to join those immortal dogs in the sky. Would I ever like to chomp on this:

The giant dog bone in the sky (big)

That last image came from NASA as the astronomy picture of the day for May 10, 2000. It is as big as New Jersey and I know it will be there waiting for me when the time comes. Click here if you want to know more about it.

As always, your faithful friend,

Rita the dog

Red Dog

By now you may well know that I am a red dog. In my previous post you saw my picture, so you must know. There are some red dogs in art and today you get to see my favorite. It is by bay-area painter, Nathan Oliveira, who was born in Oakland, California and will turn 80 years old this year. Here it is:

Nathan Oliveira — Red Dog — 2000 (big)

Of course by now you know that if you want to see it properly you need to click on the word ‘big’ under the picture. Now that’s a dog!

Yours as usual,

Rita the dog

Two Videos

Context is everything. Surely this is some famous aphorism or something. Here you are, reading a dog’s blog (haven’t you anything better to do?), and you have very little idea about me or my life or my brothers and sisters. Yes there is that “about me” post and the “I am Rita the dog” post and there is the one called “Interlopers” which is about my dog siblings. So you can’t say I haven’t tried. But some of you are here just for the “dog art”, which is really a shame, since dogs are more important than art just as human lives are more important than art. And no art can convey the complexities and the subtleties of life. Art pales in the face of life. (Since I am a dog I should be able to slobber platitudes at will). Even more: I would never, ever, choose to be a human rather than a dog. For one thing you can’t smell. The entire world of art, the entire human visual world is a paltry smudge in comparison to the vastness and richness of my olfactory world. I know; I know. I shouldn’t talk down to my audience. Well perhaps you are the one human who realizes that the single greatest shortcoming of your human race is its olfactory deficit. I have seen humans walking their leashed dogs, pull them away from Picasso’s and Vermeer’s left by other dogs for them to find. I rest my case.

That said, I really feel no need to apologize that I know absolutely nothing about making videos. Neither my mom nor my dad do either. My dad told me there was an early twentieth century playwright, or maybe it was a director who so valued stage sets and ambiance that he put various odors on stage and in the theater to add some sense of reality to the show. That is a step in the right direction, but humans can’t really smell enough for it to make a difference. George Orwell (I bet you didn’t know his real name was Eric Arthur Blair) in 1949 wrote his prophetic book 1984, in which entertainment included both feelies and smellies — my dad told me — but I don’t remember the details. It didn’t come to pass. And then there was the woman, a performance artist, whose own nude body was the exhibit, the art for viewers to interact with. That was back in the 1960’s or 1970’s, before my time. I’ll let you be the judge whether that was a step in the right direction.

So, if you are to know me better, then here I am, naked and red as the day I was born:

me–Rita the dog (big)

And here, should you want to understand the context of my life a little better, here are two silent videos of my siblings, including Louie, my feline sibling who I have heretofore not mentioned.

Cosi wants Louie

and

Giaco and Happy

Your faithful servant,

Rita the dog

Androgynous Acrobat

After Picasso’s friend Casagemas failed in love and committed suicide in 1901, Picasso, then 20 years old, struggled to come to terms with it. His ‘blue period’ of mostly melancholy bluish paintings began, and gradually gave way to the ‘rose period’, perhaps partly because of his meeting with Fernande Olivier, a married woman who was his first love and for a number years his mistress. That was in Barcelona around 1904, and it was shortly thereafter in 1905 that he painted “Boy with a Dog”, one of my favorite paintings and featured as the second image of my dad’s dog art post, here. In the same year he painted “Acrobat on a Ball” which is the next image:

Picasso–Acrobat on a Ball–1905

Perhaps this version is a little faded. I don’t really know. There is a certain poignancy here –something between sad and happy, or maybe just slightly kinky–I’m not really sure. But I want to draw your attention to the ambiance, the background details. Look closely and you will see a young woman holding a baby to her shoulder and walking with a little girl. In the center in the distance is a white horse. My dad says that in art a disproportionate number of horses are white. I don’t know if he is right or not. After all, people believe lots of things they don’t know. Now look again near the woman with the little girl. That’s right, a dog! I’m happy there is a dog in this painting and I don’t know, but I believe it is the same dog that was in the other painting with the boy.

May your day be wonderful.

Rita the dog